Waking Dreams, Waking Nightmares
by Danzinora Switch
Summary: For in that sleep of death what dreams may come...
1. The Storm before the Calm

**A/N: I'm back! I've been getting a lot of lovely reviews on my other stories (thank you all so much, by the way!). I've decided to take an Other Star Trek story I'd started (my own ship and crew) and make it TOS. I do not own Star Trek (so sad). Enjoy!**

* * *

The ship lurched again. Sulu fought for control of the helm, struggling against the powerful forces outside the _Enterprise_.

"Steady, lieutenant," Captain Kirk maintained.

"Aye, sir," Sulu grunted. Another blast struck them and the ship shuddered. Sparks flew from among the numerous consoles on the bridge.

"Report, Mr. Spock."

The science officer scrunched his eyes against the viewfinder. "It's a massive ion storm, Captain. Unusually turbulent; there's massive interference with the scanners."

As if in response the ship rocked again. The intercom whistled and Lieutenant Uhura answered. "Bridge."

"Is the captain still up thair?" came a Scottish voice.

Kirk swiveled in his chair. "What is it?"

"Ion interference has been messing wi' the warp engines," continued Scotty. "The readings have gone absolutely wild. We maintain only minimum control on stabilizing the antimatter reactions, but we could lose it at any moment. It's almost like they've got minds of their own. I've never seen the readings jump so wildly. I wouldn'ta recommend sticking around much longer."

Kirk narrowed his eyes. "Understood. Chekov, prepare a course for the nearest exit out of this storm."

Chekov pounded exasperatedly at the controls. "I'm trying sair, but the readings are jumping everywhere here, too. Complete scatterbrains. I don't know vhen I can determine up from down, much less a quick way out of here."

Kirk furrowed his brow. This was turning out to be an unusual storm. The space anomaly had developed quickly, almost literally springing up around them. The size of the storm was staggering; even more so were its origins. According to Spock, they were practically nonexistent. The ion storm simply came out of nothing.

"Get a message to Starfleet," Kirk ordered.

"Yes, captain," Uhura hesitated. "Sir, there is also heavy residual tachyonic interference."

Kirk muttered quietly to himself. He may not know as much about tachyons as his communications officer, but he knew enough. Puncturing through that mess was a task he did not envy.

To make things worse, Uhura gave a cry and jerked her hands away as the communications board erupted in sparks.

"Sickbay to bridge," Kirk ordered on his way to her. The woman was sitting back in her seat, trying to resist balling her injured hands into fists.

Kirk knelt beside her. The palms were a bright red and clearly burned- but not too badly. The turbolift opened and Kirk motioned for the orderly McCoy had sent up.

"Captain," Spock spoke from the science station. "There are some higher-space disruption readings from this storm."

"Explain," Kirk snapped. Another blow rocked the ship.

"I can't," Spock said simply.

Kirk felt cold inside. Spock could always find an answer for something, no matter how improbable or illogical. The fact that he stated so plainly that the storm was behaving irregularly in an unknown factor implied a lot.

The ship wrenched around again. "Get her to Sickbay," Kirk told the orderly. As if on cue, the intercom to the command chair buzzed from Sickbay. "Kirk here."

"Captain, get us out of this storm," Dr. McCoy's urgency surprised him. He was always one to speak his mind but this was almost like an order "I don't care how you do it- by the book or by taking a wild guess- but get gone. Not only is it racking up my patient number, but it's having weird effects on them. And I can't diagnose it fast enough because most of the equipment has become unreliable."

"Understood, Kirk out. Sulu," he said all in one move. "Pick a heading and follow it, warp 7."

"Yes, captain!" Sulu gasped, still struggling with the helm. He had resorted to manual control as the readings collapsed into uselessness. He didn't dare do a 180- the ship and been tossed around so much that they might already be facing the outer edge. With nothing else to lose, Sulu selected an upward bearing and said a short prayer.

The ship engaged in warp drive.

* * *

McCoy was running back and forth across Sickbay. Most of the injuries were caused from the violent beating the ship had taken. What caused the convulsions was beyond him.

It had started with Tilaran. The Deltan female had been dutifully at her post when she had suddenly collapsed, clutching her head. Now, she and close to ten others were strapped down onto bio-beds as they squirmed under some unseen torment. Yet nothing registered.

McCoy was on his way back to them when the ship lurched, and he heard the hum of the warp engines. "Thank the Lord," he murmured blessedly. He crossed over to where Uhura had just arrived.

But then there was a light. It was just suddenly everywhere, but with no source. Everyone froze; openmouthed. To McCoy it seemed to be all-encompasing; enveloping, reaching out-

Then darkness replaced the light. A nearby nurse, a girl by the name of Radner, pitched forward into McCoy, who stumbled.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah," Radner gulped. "Yeah; now. What was that?"

The backup power systems came on and the lights revealed people stumbling about, trying to shake off the effects of the ordeal.

"See to Tilaran and the others," McCoy instructed Radner. He quickly treated Uhura's burns, then made his way to the wall comm and requested the bridge.

"Kirk here."

"Jim, what exactly did we pass through?" he asked.

"We don't know yet," he said shortly. "What's it looking like in Sickbay?"

McCoy looked around. The patients with the physical bumps were still healing but the ones who had been convulsing looked fine. "No more weird effects. At least, not since the light came and went."

Kirk paused. "Thank you, Kirk out."

McCoy stood there for just a lingering moment. Then he turned. He had patients to attend to.

* * *

The ship was finally out of the storm. Repair crews were swiftly fixing any damages and power was constantly being restored. A report had gone out to Starfleet detailing the storm. Operations were returning to normal smoothness. Kirk, however, didn't relax. He had Spock constantly analyzing what could've caused the… the light.

Only it had been more than a light. Light couldn't reach beyond the spectrum, beyond its physical boundaries. Yet it had… somehow. It was like having a door to his mind opened, with a light pouring in. Kirk had felt everywhere at once… and at the same time nowhere. Hearing the whispers among the crew, he knew everyone else had felt the same thing, too.

Except for Spock. He'd merely seen a light. The first officer had described a sort of pressure around his head during the oddity, but nothing so incredible as the light-that-was-something-more. Kirk debated over holding a staff meeting. On the one hand, he didn't like mysteries; he preferred answers. On the other, since leaving the storm, which was already strange, there had been nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, that was only some 5 hours ago. The two were definitely linked, and the mind-opening light could just be part of unusual scientific phenomenon they had come across. For the time being, he settled for just filling out his report for Starfleet.

"Anything, Mr. Spock?" Kirk asked, wandering over by the science station.

Spock switched off the scanner. "There is very little data concerning the experience. The storm rendered the scanners mostly inoperable the entire time, and there is no previous account of anything like this. We have, of course, the eyewitness accounts of over 400 crewmembers, and the odd afflictions of 11 just prior to the light."

"Yes, well maybe they might be able to provide some more answers. Shall we pay Dr. McCoy a visit?"

"There is nothing else to be done here," Spock replied. They walked to the turbolift, leaving Sulu the conn.

Sickbay was winding down. The last of the patients were being discharged except for two who took some pretty bad head injuries and would be staying overnight.

They found Dr. McCoy in his office, staring at a computer terminal. He looked up as they walked in. "Oh, Jim, Spock, I was just about to call you."

"You have an update on those eleven crewmembers?" Kirk asked.

McCoy shrugged. "If you can call it that. I still don't know what made them convulse like that, they can only describe it as something afflicting their heads. However, I ran their medical histories up together and got one correlation that you might be interested in."

He swung the computer around and they looked at the results. "Tilaran, Deltan, ESP 93; Brooks, human, ESP 88…" Kirk read.

"All of the crewmembers have high telepathic abilities," Spock noted.

"Yup. Humans average around 40 to 50, except in rare cases. But that still doesn't explain why _you_ weren't affected," McCoy jabbed a finger at Spock.

"On the contrary, I think it does," he said. "As a Vulcan, I maintain strong mental shields and tight telepathic practices. Deltans, for instance, are rather free in their mental abilities, and likewise humans have no prior restraining practices."

"So you didn't get the full- feel –of the light because you were blocking it?" the doctor clarified.

"I believe that is the case."

"So it's something," Kirk rubbed his eyes. "Something mental. Alright, we'll go on that." He stifled a yawn.

McCoy frowned at him. "Jim, when did you last get some sleep?"

"When did you?" he countered, but McCoy was having none of it. "That storm lasted who knows how long and did nothing for nerves, and I'll bet you've been on shift since then."

He could not have looked more guilty.

"Go to bed, Captain," McCoy said sternly, guiding him to the door. "That's a medical order. We've barely got anything and if it happens again, well, you'll know right away."

"Fine," Kirk said. "But buzz me the moment you find something new."

"Of course," Spock said.

Kirk ambled down to his quarters, for once, not arguing. He slid onto the bed and sighed. It had been a crazy day. Day? It seemed longer. Before long he fell asleep and dreamed he was in a long desert. There was sand everywhere and a hot sun was glaring down on him. He was unbearably thirsty, but no water was in sight.

When he awoke, his throat was as parched as that desert.

* * *

**Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! I'm excited! Are you? Since school's in session I don't know how often I'll be able to update, but I'm going to try to at least write a little more every weekend. Don't worry; I've got an outline and this is gonna get finished! Please review, reviews are my life source.**


	2. The Dreamworld Reality

**A/N: Thank you all, for your lovely reviews (I'm giddy)! Here is the next installment; hey I could actually get it up in less than a week. ;) I don't own Star Trek, though I dream about it often...**

* * *

Kirk dragged himself out of bed and ambled for the adjoining bathroom. He still felt very tired. His vision was bleary and he squinted at the faucet as he poured himself a glass of water. He downed it, and then another. He _was_ terribly thirsty. At last, his thirst quenched, he plodded back to bed. Glancing at the clock, he stopped. It was 0900. He'd slept through to the night and into the next morning. How come nobody had aroused him?

No matter. It was almost time to start the shift. Kirk quickly got dressed and then wiped his eyes of sleep. A bite to eat in the mess hall, and then he would stop by Sickbay. Perhaps they'd found something more about the light by now.

* * *

McCoy was in a mood. It wasn't a _bad_ mood, but it wasn't exactly a _good_ mood, either. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. He and Spock had stayed up late analyzing more results from the 11 telepathic crewmembers, and then gone to bed. He was tired. He'd had one of those dreams where you were being chased by someone or something and woke up exhausted, as if he really had just run a marathon. Nurse Chapel wasn't helping. She'd come into Sickbay positively _glowing._

"Good morning, Doctor," she said cheerfully. "The neural results are back." She laid them on his desk.

"Thanks," he grunted. McCoy rubbed his eyes. After looking over the brain scans he glanced back up at Chapel. She was humming pleasantly, and had a dreamy smile on her face as she organized medicines. _At least one of us got a good night's rest_, he thought.

"Doctor McCoy?"

A hesitant voice crept into Sickbay. McCoy looked up to see Yeoman Lawrence standing there. She looked nervous, and kept glancing around as if to make sure no one was watching. Her right hand was clutched into a fist.

"Yes, what can I help you with?" he asked, rising to greet her.

She looked down at her boots. "I seem to have… um… well, my…" she looked back up at him and her eyes were brimming with tears.

"Hey, easy, easy, it'll be okay. Now, what is it?"

In response, she opened her mouth. McCoy's eyes widened. Several teeth were missing, from both the top and the bottom. It looked like they had just randomly fallen out.

"I woke up this morning," she sputtered, tears falling freely now. "And they were just everywhere! In my mouth, on the pillow…" she started sobbing. She unclenched her fist and McCoy saw several teeth clutched in her palm.

"Alright," McCoy said gently, guiding her to a biobed. He grabbed a tray and she dumped the teeth onto it. "Now, can you tell me what you did yesterday; where you around anything dangerous that may have caused this?"

She sniffed. "No." He offered her a tissue. "It was just a normal day, aside from the storm and stuff." She blew her nose. "Oh, Doctor, this is horrible! It's like my worst nightmare come true!"

Something about her statement caught McCoy's attention. He rubbed his sore legs. "Yeoman," he said. "What did you dream last night?"

Surprised, she thought. "Well, I… I dreamed that my teeth fell out. It's a common nightmare… several of my friends have it."

"Hmm." He looked down at the tray. "Well, I can't exactly put these back, but I can tell Dr. Clarke he's got a priority today; he's in charge of dental work." He grabbed a PADD and scribbled a note on it. "He'll getcha a bunch of new pristine beauties and you'll be right as rain."

Yeoman Lawrence smiled weakly. "Thank you," she said. She took the PADD and left.

McCoy found a chair and leaned back in it. That was odd. Then another patient came in and he turned his attention to him. Then another. There were a bunch of odd cases. Scuffs and bruises, missing hair, spider bites. _Spider bites?_

McCoy shook his head. They normally didn't get a load like this until much later in the day. He was filling out the medical log on the unusual load when Kirk walked in.

"Oh, good morning Jim," McCoy looked up and stopped. "Well, when did _you_ have time for shore leave?"

Kirk frowned. "What do you mean, Bones?"

The doctor got up and waved a scanner over him, in case there was more than just the obvious. "Well, you've got one mighty sunburn there."

"I do?" Shocked, Kirk's hand flew to his face. He winced as he felt the burning against his fingertips. He looked down and noticed that his forearms were also rosy.

"Don't worry," McCoy said; calming him. "You're not the strangest case I've seen today." Kirk followed him to the medicine cabinet.

"And just what have you seen today?" Kirk asked as McCoy began applying lotion. He winced over the more burned areas.

"A better question would be what _haven't_ I seen today," McCoy grunted. "Missing teeth, insect bites, bumps and scrapes; and it's not even 10 o'clock!"

Kirk frowned. "That _does_ sound unusual." He rubbed the lotion over his face, biting his tongue against the pain. "Any idea what may have caused it?"

"I was hoping you could answer that," the doctor replied. "How in the blazes did you get a sunburn?"

Before Kirk could answer the comm shrilled. "Security; Dr. McCoy to crew's quarters, priority medical alert, acknowledge."

McCoy raced over to the wall. "I'm on my way." He grabbed his medkit and rushed out of Sickbay; Kirk right on his heels. A quick ride in a turbolift and a run down the hall later, they arrived in front of a crewman's quarters where a couple of redshirts were trying to calm down a hysterical ensign.

"I mean, she just isn't…" she blabbered, her nose becoming congested. McCoy shoved his way into the room while Kirk approached the ensign.

"Calm down, calm down," he said gently, but with enough of an authoritative edge to drive the point home. "Now, what happened?"

"I don't know!" she wailed. "I just woke up and she doesn't seem… she wouldn't…"

Sobbing into a Security man's shoulder, Kirk turned and entered the room. McCoy was bending over a young woman who seemed unnaturally still. When the doctor looked up Kirk knew it before he even said anything.

"She's dead, Jim."

* * *

After the lady was covered and taken away, Kirk called for an immediate department heads meeting. McCoy was excused to perform the autopsy. They quickly made sure that all other personnel were accounted for and that no one had any serious injuries. He paced the room extensively as staff filed in, but once everyone was settled he sat down at the head of the triangular table.

"So we have strange, random afflictions scattered throughout the crew," Kirk began. "Odd, little things… only now someone is dead. Speculations?"

Spock looked contemplative. "From what reports have been streaming in," he said, folding his hands on the table. "They all seem to be noticed upon waking up. Things that weren't there yesterday evening. It would be logical to conclude that these- happenings –occur during sleep."

"Yes, and the night shift doesn't report anything unusual." Kirk drummed his fingers on the table and noticed Spock's expression. "You have something else?"

"Perhaps," he hesitated. "Captain, what did you dream last night?"

Thrown a bit off balance, Kirk replied, "I dreamed I was in a desert looking for water."

Spock nodded slowly. "And if you _were_ actually in that desert, it would explain the sunburn."

Kirk felt his face again. "Yes… and when I woke up I _was_ incredibly thirsty…" he trailed off as a sinking thought hit him. "You don't suppose our dreams are becoming… _real_?"

"It would explain m'belly ache after dreamin' of eating five pounds of haggis," Scotty remarked.

"To an extent," Spock said. "You did not find any sand in your quarters, did you?"

"No," Kirk shook his head.

"Then I believe that what is happening is that our bodies are responding to whatever happens in our dreams as reality." He paused. "I use 'our' as a formality; I do not dream."

"And are thus, spared the effects," Kirk mentioned. McCoy came in and sat in and quietly sat in a chair. "Report, Doctor?"

"Well, Jim, despite everything I'd say she drowned." That earned a few stares. "Granted, there was no actual water in her lungs, but all the alveoli show signs of stress brought on by breathing water. It wasn't a matter of asphyxiation, because all the passageways were clear. It was like her lungs didn't recognize the difference between air and water."

Spock was nodding. "That fits with our theory," he said.

"And what is that?" McCoy asked. Kirk filled him in.

"So we know what is happening," Kirk said. "But not why, or how."

"Until we figure those out, Captain," Spock began. "We shall need to prevent further casualties."

"Yes."

Uhura spoke up. "Most of the crew sleeps two per room. One person could stay up and watch the other; wake them up the moment they start dreaming."

McCoy frowned. "It'd only be a temporary solution, though. People need their REM sleep."

"But it's something." Kirk stretched. "That leaves the officers, however. They're alone."

"Captain, since I do not require as much sleep as humans, I can rotate standing watch over department heads," Spock offered.

"But what about those whom you're not watching?" Kirk countered.

"Jim," McCoy looked at him. "We've only had one death, _one_ death, in a crew of 430 people because of this. Now, if you're really worried," he held up a hand to stop Kirk from replying just yet. "I can give the rest of us sedatives that'll keep us _unconscious_ rather than _asleep_. You don't dream when you're unconscious."

Kirk relented. "Alright. In the meantime I want analyses. We can trace this to that ion storm; I want a detailed report on it again as well as those 11 crewmembers; I want to see how this affects them. Psi ratings for the crew in case anyone's more susceptible than others. We've got to stop this before someone else dies." He rose.

"Meeting adjourned."

* * *

**So there it is, again, early. But I've been making use of my long bus ride. My long. Bus. Ride. I'm five minutes away from school and I'm on that thing for an hour! An hour! How? Agh, PHYSICS WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE BROKEN!?**

**Sorry for the rant. But I'm steamed. At least I got chapter 2 done, you know, I should really name these... thoughts anyone?**


	3. Dead Asleep

**A/N: Thank you for reviewing, everybody! I appreciate them so much! My chapters have titles now. This one is 'Dead Asleep' as suggested by ThatSassyCaptain (thank you for the ideas! I _almost_ had it 'Precautionary Measures', too!) :) Enjoy!**

* * *

The first thing McCoy did after the announcement was made was get with Scotty to remove all the sugar from the synthesizers. When people complained he merely glared at them and said "it's only for a couple days and do really _want_ nightmares right now?" That shut them up. He also distributed stimulants to all the crewmembers who would be taking the first watch over their cabin mates. He was rather surprised when Uhura showed up.

"I thought you'd been in the rotation Spock's setting up," he mused, handing her the hypo to take later.

"I thought about it," she blushed. "But it would be, well, a bit awkward to have him in the room as I'm trying to fall asleep."

McCoy agreed wholeheartedly. He wasn't looking forward to his turn with the Vulcan. He almost didn't hear as Uhura continued.

"So I'm bunking with Chapel."

"Oh?" Although not an officer, McCoy had made sure that Chapel had her own room early in the mission. A head nurse needed a place to unwind in private. He knew it did him a bunch of good. "Well don't let her boss you around too much."

Uhura laughed. "Thank you, Doctor." She left for the bridge.

Kirk was in a mood when she got there. He was pacing around, sometimes hovering, before retreating to his chair only to get up and pace again. As she sat down at her console he approached.

"How's Sickbay?" he asked.

Suppressing a smile at his behavior, she answered. "Fine, Captain. Distribution of the stimulants is running smoothly; the crew is informed to look for eye movement signaling a dream."

"Good," he wandered away. Kirk was restless. There was nothing going on and so the adventure was mainly a scientific endeavor. He felt practically useless. Spock was absorbed at his station, McCoy was busy in Sickbay, and Scotty was down trying to coax as much information as possible from the computers. The man was still unnerved that a mere storm had made so many instruments go haywire.

He'd filled out a new report to Starfleet and sent it off ages ago. They wouldn't get a reply until sometime tomorrow. Finally, the shift ended and after a quick dinner it was time for bed.

Kirk walked in his quarters and stretched out on the bed. He groaned. The day had been crazy and boring at the same time, and now no one was looking forward to sleep. Ideas swirled in his head as he tried to speculate what could have caused all this.

He was interrupted from his musings when the door buzzed. A moment later, Spock entered.

"Spock," he greeted. "I take it I am the first person on your rotation schedule?"

"Yes, Captain." He stood there.

"Well, sit down," Kirk invited, gesturing a chair near the bed. "Make yourself comfortable; there are some things I need to finish in the bathroom."

Spock sat silently in the chair. He had considered bringing something to do for the long night, but decided that it would only distract him from keeping watch on his captain. In their new reality, dreams could kill.

Kirk returned and laid down. They chatted some before he drifted off to sleep.

Spock observed the rise and fall of Kirk's chest as he sank further into sleep. When his eyelids started fluttering, he swiftly rose and gently shook his shoulder.

"Captain."

Kirk did not awake right away and so Spock shook him again. "Jim, wake up."

Finally, his eyes opened. "Aw, Spock," he slurred, coming to. "You yanked me out of a good dream."

"I apologize, Captain, but we cannot afford the results if it were to become a nightmare."

"If it had become a nightmare I would've been talking and jerking in my sleep." Kirk sighed wearily. "How about this, Spock. If I'm doing what I just said, wake me. Otherwise, I'm fine just having a normal dream." He grinned. "Who knows? Maybe actually feeling it will provide a better sleep."

Spock didn't think the logic was completely sound, yet agreed nevertheless. He returned to his chair and remained there till morning.

* * *

The next day greeted a bunch of tired eyes. Stimulants and coffee were passed around and people resumed trying to glean as much information as possible from the storm, light, and dream effects. Sickbay filled up with some oddities; people who had dreamed and their watchers didn't know it, or had fallen asleep themselves and dreamed. There were no more deaths, however, and nothing more serious than an infected snake bite.

Kirk swung by around lunch and asked for a report. "Aside from the dream cases and sleep deprivation, nothing unusual," McCoy answered. Sensing his next question, he added "and no, we're no closer to finding the cause of all this than we were yesterday."

"Thank you," Kirk replied. "That'll be all, Doctor."

No sooner had he left then Tilaran came into Sickbay. "Hello, dear, what can I do for you?" McCoy greeted warmly.

The Deltan smiled shyly and glanced around. "I've got a sort of… humming… in my head," she said. He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, why don't you have a seat and see what's causing it?"

She sat on a biobed and McCoy ran his scanner around her skull. He frowned. A few areas showed heightened brain activity, but not dangerous; just on the high side of the norm. "Did you stay up last night or sleep?"

"I stayed up," she said. "Although I must have dropped off at one point. I woke up suddenly and noticed deep scratches crawling down my roommate's arm- literally, they were just appearing as if something invisible was attacking her. I woke her up right away; she'd been dreaming about fighting a tiger."

McCoy nodded, absorbing the testimony. He filed it away for later. "Do you know if you dreamed any?"

"No."

"Is it causing you any pain?"

"Actually, it's not," Tilaran reflected. "But it was weird and I thought you might like to know."

He set down his scanner. "Thank you. Right now I can't pinpoint what's causing it. Your brain activity is a little spiked, but that can be attributed to Deltan circadian rhythms."

"Yes," she chewed her lip. "You don't suppose it's connected with… what's been going on, do you?"

"Well, it is a definite possibility," he replied. "Let me know if it gets any worse, okay?"

"Sure thing, Doctor," Tilaran got up, glad to have informed him of the odd noise. "It's actually kind of pleasant right now; like I've got my own elevator music."

McCoy chuckled. They said good-bye and he returned to scrutinizing the data on Tilaran and the others just prior to the light.

Evening came closer. Chekov stopped by to get a stimulant. He seemed a little nervous.

"Your turn to stay up?"

"Yes," the Russian answered. "But I'm wery vorried that I'll fall asleep… I don't vant to miss someteeng that might hurt Sulu…"

"Well, that's where this comes in," McCoy said, holding up a hypo. "With this stuff in your system, you wouldn't _dream_ of falling asleep."

They laughed at his pun and were still chuckling when Tilaran came in, swaying in the doorway.

"Doctor?" she called weakly. "You said to call if it got any worse…"

She collapsed.

* * *

It was almost an hour before midnight. Spock walked the dimly lit halls until he reached his destination: Sickbay. It was almost empty except for about four people lying on biobeds, carefully monitored. Dr. McCoy stood near them, studying the medical panels. He turned when Spock entered.

"Evenin' Spock," he said gruffly, his accent thick.

"Good evening, Doctor," he replied. He waited.

After a moment McCoy realized why he was there. "You may wanna skip me tonigh'," he waved. "It'll probably be an all-nighter- try Scotty instead."

Spock observed the sleeping patients. Well, two were sedated and two were unconscious. They were the top four telepaths on the _Enterprise_- aside from himself, of course. He checked and made sure his mental shields were still strongly in place. They were. He looked back at McCoy. Although tired, he knew him well enough that the doctor truly wouldn't sleep. Not until he had answers, at least. And then he would wake up the whole command crew. There was no need for concern over his dreaming.

So Spock inclined his head in acquiescence. "As you wish."

* * *

Kirk was tired. He'd be sleeping alone tonight, which meant to say that he wouldn't be sleeping at all. He eyed the sedative McCoy had given him. "It'll render you unconscious for about 7-8 hours," the doctor had explained. "Now no excuses; I want you to take this. It won't equal REM sleep, but it's something. Now _bed_."

So with a sigh Kirk injected himself, and soon floated away into a realm of darkness.

/000000000000000000000000000\

"Captain! Captain Kirk!"

Kirk jolted awake to see Nurse Chapel's worried face looking at him. She withdrew her hands from his shoulders where she'd been shaking him to consciousness.

"What? What is it?"

Her face was grave. "There's been a medical emergency on Deck 6, crewman's quarters. Dr. McCoy sent me to get you; he's there now." Kirk almost didn't hear the last part of her sentence before he was already out the door and racing down the hall. Adrenaline pumping through his veins flushed out the remainder of the sedative. He skirted the curving corridors and found that the nurse was right on his heels. They entered the turbolift and made for Deck 6.

"What time is it?" he asked, noticing that they hadn't run into any crew members.

"0630 hours," Chapel answered, controlling her breathing. "His roommate called it in."

The doors opened and they ran until they came across a small crowd outside the quarters. Chapel made for one man who was sitting on the ground, mouth working to try to form words, eyes staring blankly. Kirk glanced among the redshirts, looking for Bones. He was about to enter the room when the doctor exited, looking at him seriously.

"What happened?" Kirk asked, dreading the answer.

"Jim, ever had the dream where you fall from a high place and awaken just before impact?" he asked quietly.

"Yes…" He trailed as McCoy motioned him inside. They entered the dark room. Kirk squinted, and his stomach clenched. Something was on one of the beds. Making out a mixture of blood, guts, and bones, he tried not to gag. It didn't even look human.

His ears barely registered the words McCoy spoke next. "This is what it looks like when you impact."

* * *

**I hope y'all don't mind a little bit of gruesome human imagery. For some reason I've always been good at describing dismembered limbs and body parts (but I tried to tone it down some here, since the rating's T). **

**Also, I know one scene may seem a bit Spirkish but it's not meant that way. I don't write slash, and even if I did I wouldn't write Spirk; I need McCoy in there _somewhere_.**

**Anyway, this chapter may be a tad slow but it's just the lull before the storm! Please review, I'm anxious to know what you people think.**


	4. Crossing Planes

**A/N: Warning: By the end of this, your brain will hurt.**

* * *

Two more espers were admitted into Sickbay later that day. One had just collapsed, like Tilaran. The other had staggered around, dizzy, for a while before following suit. McCoy and Chapel worked furiously to try and figure out the cause. Brain functions were clearly up, but there was no indication _why_.

"LeGuir mentioned a humming sound before he passed," McCoy reported at the staff meeting Kirk called. "So it's definitely the same _thing_. And it sort of fits with the light and the dreams."

"How so?" Kirk asked.

"Captain, it is definitely a mental phenomenon," Spock clarified. "A non-physical light, the more telepathic crewmembers being most affected by something, dreams becoming reality- are all related to the mind. However, it is extremely difficult to pinpoint the _origin_." He considered something briefly. "We have also been traveling steadily at Warp 2 since leaving the ion storm. Yet the symptoms persist. It is logical to conclude that they are central to this ship, and not a given area."

"Otherwise we would have left it behind us," Kirk finished. His hand fit the table. "I don't need to tell you how to do your jobs, but we need answers. Two crewmen are dead. Several injured. Six are comatose. If you can think of anything then do it, no matter how crazy. After all," he twisted his face into a smile but it came out more like a grimace. "This ship has performed miracles before.

"Dismissed."

* * *

McCoy tromped into his quarters later that night. The condition of the four crewman had dropped when the other two were affected, but they were stabilized now, if still unconscious. But there was no _reason_ for them to be. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Even investigating a psychic phenomenon, nothing had come up.

He lay down on the bed and let his thoughts wander, considering possibilities. The sedative was next to him; he had no intention of drifting off. However, a door chime interrupted him from his musings.

"Come in."

Spock entered. _Of course_, McCoy thought. _He skipped me last night_. He sighed. Really nothing to do about it. Besides, he'd been up for almost 48 hours and _was_ pretty tired.

"Well, don't be a stranger, Spock," he groused, gesturing a chair. "Sit down."

"Thank you, Doctor," he said. McCoy rolled his eyes. So formal. Even at this late hour.

He sighed for a third time and rolled over. "G'night." He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. _Oh, Lord, this is so awkward_, he thought. He could practically feel the Vulcan's eyes on him and stubbornly resisted the urge to peek over his shoulder. He contemplated engaging Spock in a debate, but then again he had already said good-night and that would just probably increase the odd tension. _Go to sleep,_ McCoy commanded himself. _Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe…_

The two days catching up with him, McCoy fell asleep.

* * *

Spock had decided to view the observing rotation as a scientific study. He was, after all, essentially observing how the senior officers slept. Kirk had a tendency to roll around a lot, leading to Spock waking him up a lot under the presumption he was in a nightmare. Sometimes he hadn't been dreaming at all. Scott, on the other hand, slept sprawled on his stomach and snored like a train. The engineer would occasionally smack his lips and mutter something, but otherwise did not move. Dr. McCoy, he noticed, once fallen asleep, had rolled on his back and tossed a hand over his head. He slept quietly, and didn't move much more after that. Spock lapsed onto an almost-autopilot; he would snap to alertness upon detecting movement. In the meantime, he allowed his brain to continue to work on mental problem.

His attention was brought back to reality when McCoy shifted slightly. Spock noticed his eyes were twitching, indicating REM sleep. And dreaming. He was about to wake him when Spock hesitated. He remembered Jim saying to let him sleep through the good dreams. He watched carefully for any signs that a nightmare was occurring and leaving behind its handiwork. None came. He relaxed marginally, when McCoy suddenly went rigid. There was a sort of whisper-moan and then he started shaking, sweat appearing on his brow.

Enough was enough.

Spock rose swiftly and shook the man's shoulder. "Doctor McCoy," he said. McCoy started tossing his head. Spock shook harder. "Doctor, wake up!"

McCoy's eyes snapped open, blue glazed with fear. And for a moment, just a moment, that terror seemed to increase upon seeing Spock leaning over him. McCoy tore out of bed and Spock's grip on his shoulder and staggered across the opposite side of the room. He was doubled over, clutching his head. His breathing was ragged, but was slowly being controlled. Spock started forward but stopped, remembering that odd added fear when the doctor awoke.

McCoy, meanwhile, was cursing himself. Dammit, his head hurt so much, and naturally Spock in the room had brought back _that_ nightmare…

_Get a hold of yerself,_ he admonished. _Don't fall apart in front of _him…

So he mastered his breathing, which slowed his racing heart. Spock observed all of this quietly. Finally, McCoy straightened and gave him a weak smile. "Thanks for waking me up," he said. "It was one heck of a nightmare."

"Indeed," Spock said. "Should we go to Sickbay to ascertain your physical status?"

McCoy waved him off. "That won't be necessary; it wasn't a damaging nightmare."

Spock knitted his brow. "How can you know it wouldn't have turned into one?"

"Because," McCoy paused. "It wasn't. I've had it before and it's not… nothing physically threatening happens."

A glint appeared in the Vulcan's eyes. "Doctor, this could prove very beneficial."

"Yeah?" McCoy shifted.

"Yes. If you have had this nightmare before, then we can compare the previous occurrences with this one, and see if anything is different. It may shed light on the cause of the dream manifestations."

"Spock! That's-" Pause. "Well, logical, but-" McCoy had started to pace the room. "But it's not that serious, hell, it's not even a real nightmare; a memory."

"Even better." The doctor stopped for a moment. "We can compare the dream to the actual event." He folded his hands. "What did you dream about?"

McCoy stared at him some more, then resumed pacing. "Spock, it's kind of private…"

"Doctor," Spock broke in. "We are in desperate need of information. The comparison may very well prove crucial. Do you not have six comatose patients in Sickbay? Would you not help them in every way you could?"

The doctor stopped pacing again and shot him a look. Spock ignored it; he knew what cards to play. Then the doctor's face crumpled. "Oh, Christ, Spock," he said, collapsing on the bed. "There's a _reason_ it turned into a nightmare."

Spock sat down on the bed as well, still on the other side. "Perhaps I can help," he said quietly.

McCoy glanced at him, mildly surprised. There was no 'be of assistance' but Spock had actually said '_help_'. His head ached for a moment. Lord knew he wanted help, to make the nightmares stopped. They'd decreased over the months, but sometimes still cropped up. This time had been the worst. In that it had been so _real_. Eventually aspects of the event had faded, sight and some sensation had persisted, but sense of touch, for example had gone. This time it had been like he was reliving the actual event all over again. He could _feel_ Spock's fingers again his face, he could _feel_ that presence in his mind…

McCoy shuddered and looked up. "Alright, Spock," he said calmly, his voice a low, dead, tone. It barely sounded like his own. "It was the forced mind meld."

He could see Spock turning the words over in his head, contemplating the use of the word 'the' versus 'a'. When at last he spoke his voice was uncharacteristically tight. "When did this happen?"

"Back when we were in the Mirror Universe; Jim, Scotty, Uhura and I."

Spock nodded slowly. "Yes." Voice still tight. Then, "My counterpart?"

McCoy swallowed dryly. "Yes."

Spock was silent for a long time. McCoy noticed that his clasped hands were gripping each other so tightly that the knuckles had gone white. That surprised him slightly. It was about the closest had had ever seen the Vulcan betray emotion. Well, willingly, at least. McCoy stayed silent, not at all eager to continue any more than necessary.

"Doctor," Spock said at last. "Are you aware of the… seriousness… of this?"

McCoy frowned. "I know it wasn't right." He shuddered. Somehow that was understating it. "It certainly didn't feel… _right_." He paused, contemplating. It wasn't a memory he particularly wanted a closer look at. He gave up and looked at Spock.

The Vulcan, meanwhile, was thinking. On the one hand, it was truly amazed that McCoy hadn't been driven insane like other victims of _kae'at k'lasa_. The doctor seemed to understand that the experience was bad, but didn't grasp its full weight. That was probably a factor. Humans had an uncanny ability to physiologically respond to what they were told to believe. The Placebo Effect was an excellent example. However, he surmised, in the doctor's case it was more similar to a child reading an adult book. They would get the gist of a love story, but completely miss any biochemical undertones. Unless told otherwise, of course. Unless it was explained. McCoy knew the mind-meld was wrong. But he didn't know _how_ wrong, and so treated it lightly (or at least as lightly as was possible). Spock calculated that he might do more harm than good by explaining the full situation.

"It was," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Immensely unethical. And atrocious." He cleared his throat. "I would prefer that we discuss this at a later time, Doctor. Let me clarify: it is very important that we discuss this. However, the current situation calls for something else." He shifted slightly.

"What is it, Spock?" McCoy asked. "You've got that look in your eye."

"We have already established that this is a mental phenomenon." Spock looked him in the eye. "May I conduct a mind-meld, McCoy?"

Initially, McCoy blanched. He was still feeling the after-effects of his nightmare. However, this Spock wasn't forcing him. He'd asked for permission. And that touched McCoy. One of the hardest things he'd had dealing with was how the other Spock had just used him as a _tool_. He didn't ask, he just got what he needed to know then dragged him back to the transporter room. There was no acknowledgement that McCoy had a life, that he had his own mind, his own thoughts, his _privacy_, dammit! He was tossed aside the moment Spock was done.

This Spock was asking.

Asking _McCoy_.

"Yes, Spock," he found himself saying. "Let's see what this is all about."

* * *

They sat facing each other on the bed. Spock quickly prepared himself. He was hoping to find some impression of the mental phenomenon, yet also wished to glimpse the doctor's mental state. Because dreams were real to the body, no doubt the nightmare had been the equivalent of a second forced meld. There would definitely have to be healing later. He would just quickly see what would have to be repaired.

He didn't get the chance.

The moment Spock made contact he and the doctor were flooded with a torrent of being. It was staggering, and Spock fought to maintain control in the odd limbo. He sensed McCoy slipping away in the flood and grasped him tightly, grounding him.

_Thanks_, he felt. Spock also learned, no doubt from sharing the doctor's thoughts, that this was the experience felt when the light had appeared.

It was fascinating. Time did not exist. Nor did space. Yet Spock felt everywhere and nowhere at once. Spock? Names seemed meaningless. There was an increased sense of self-actualization. He was who he was. He felt so connected with others, knowing who they were. They were them. _Enlightening_ was a very accurate word, and he felt McCoy's laughter, (no, sound did not exist yet this whole thing _sang_, humor was a better word) at the comparison of that word to the light flooding them.

Then they felt something else. Another… consciousness? No, that word seemed to fall short. It was a collection of being; a collection of existence. It joined them in no physical sense, and greeted them without words. Caught up in the sensations, Spock struggled to say, or rather think, 'Hello'. McCoy did the same, albeit with more difficulty.

_Hello_, the collection answered. Spock was intrigued. Language had suddenly become crisp, and not abstract. Also, it had replied in Vulcan. Though McCoy heard English.

_Inquiry_, it continued, picking up on their emotions/intent. Spock was utterly fascinated. He had not yet put it into words… what exactly could he inquire about? Yet it seemed to know he was questioning… everything.

There was a delay. _Forgive me,_ it said. _Words are very new, and quite odd. Limiting, but a fascinating concept. I am picking up from your minds this 'Language', or, pardon me, these 'Languages'. It is apparently very difficult for you to actively think without these words, if not impossible._

Before Spock could ask a question, it already seemed to know his intent. _More inquiry. I could tell you all instantaneously, but judging by how overwhelming this is for the two of you now, I shall have to explain things one at a time._ It spoke, if it could honestly be termed that, flawlessly, seamlessly, completely.

'Could you start with your name?' McCoy's broken thought came through. It pierced the- experience- and seemed abnormally stiff and sharp against the organic unity of everything.

_A name_, it mused. Spock could honestly not think of how to describe… it. _Names are even more abstract than Language. I am Me; that is what I know. However, for your sakes I shall strive to come up with a contemporary title._ It paused. _Who am I? You could call me Afreel, though it holds no meaning to me._ _Merely a random collection of letters that I find pleasing and do not form a word in either of your Languages_.

'What are you?' Spock asked. His thought was not as one-tracked as McCoy's, yet still seemed to upset the flow of… whatever it was. 'What is this?'

_Ah yes, _Afreel said. _The two go hand in hand. It's a pity I cannot simply inform you in my own way. I shall try to make use of your Languages accurately._ Beat. _I am thought._

If Spock had an eyebrow visible, it would've risen sky high. Perhaps it was up in his hairline back in the real world.

_I am thought_, Afreel continued. _And this, as best to your understandings, can be described as the Mental Plane._

'Fascinating.' He sensed an underlying of McCoy's thoughts. They were along the lines of how he said the word even in his mind.

_I am not alone_, Afreel was saying. _I am merely one form of thought. It was decided that I would be best to welcome you. We are quite elated with this Contact._

'Contact?'

_Yes. _There was warmth in Afreel's tone. _We grew. We felt. We realized. We learned. And these continue. We are sentience. We eventually learned that there was a form of existence beyond ours. Beyond Mentality._ Afreel paused. _I shall tell you everything that your knowledge permits._

_ Occasionally we would feel undercurrents in Existence. Moments of activity that would fade. Often several at once. Moreso none at all. In the lower levels of thought, it was like something was accessing our Existence, this Mentality, briefly every now and then. Like now._

Spock quickly put it together. Of course, the Mental Plane! Those activities were mind-melds and other forms of telepathy in use.

Afreel purred in agreement with his logic. _Yes. These clued us in to another plane. There was another form of Existence. You term this as the Physical Plane._

Spock and McCoy were dumbfounded. While McCoy was digesting the information Spock was getting more and more excited. The Universe wasn't the limit; the final frontier. Not even parallel universes (which drew a twinge of emotion from McCoy). Everything- from physics to atoms to biology –was physical. Three-dimensional, two-dimensional, four-dimensional, gravity had some effect of shape, even time! After all, time was measured by the passage of space, which was physical. However, thought wasn't physical. Emotions weren't. States of existence weren't physical, like curiosity. And there was a whole plane dedicated to them.

_Yes,_ Afreel rumbled. _Anyways, we grew very excited about this possibility. Space, the idea of form; it's very foreign to us. Nevertheless, we decided to try and make contact with this Plane. Not knowing what to expect, we decided on a trial for the machine we constructed._

'Machine?' McCoy wondered. 'How can you build a machine without any tools? Without any_thing_ for that matter!'

There was an impression of Afreel inclining its head. _I use the phrase as a metaphor. Like you can make artificial replicates of items around you, we can make artificial thoughts. We constructed a mass of thoughts designed to cross the barrier to the Physical Plane._

'Like equations,' Spock felt sudden insight. 'Equations that do the work instead of merely describe it.'

_Rather accurate. Whereas your mathematics explain functions in your physical universe, our- mathematics –_are_ the functions in this mental… universe. We did have a lack of data, however. Again, we previously, before encountering your minds, had no idea of space. Due to the occasional burst of activities along the lower levels of Existence, we gained a rudimentary perception of time. Therefore, after powering up our machine, for lack of a better word, we activated it fully for only a couple of your seconds._

Everything clicked. 'We experienced an ion storm,' Spock thought slowly. "That was incredibly unusual. Followed by an experience much like this.'

'It must have been the effects of powering up your machine and turning it on,' McCoy bubbled excitedly. 'You did make contact!'

_Briefly_, Afreel calmed. _We felt you all. The sudden company alerted us to our success. Yet you all did seem very lost. Extremely lost. So we cut the machine to lowest force and since then have only been minutely increasing it._

If McCoy had physical form he would have been bouncing on his toes. 'We had some more telepathic crewmembers affected by your machine powering up. Then everything was fine until you started increasing the power again. They described a humming, like what's here, and then slipped unconscious.'

Afreel seemed mortified. _We have been getting weak signals during the powering up and low settings, _it said. _Touching on mentality gateways, but not quite getting through. What I mean by mentality gateways are your minds. By thinking, and mainly through telepathy, you access this Mental Plane. However, you can apply these to the physical world. I grieve to think that we are causing harm to some of you. We shall look for a way for the machine to not reach more receptive minds unless on full power used for contact, such as earlier._

'That's not all,' McCoy continued. He transmitted the circumstances of the dreams without coherent words. It seemed to explain the situation clearer to Afreel.

_I am sorry that we have caused you trouble… and death. _Afreel tested this newest concept. _We shall terminate the machine until these problems can be rectified._ Its attention shifted to Spock. _More inquiry, I see. Why your vessel was affected and not the whole Physical Plane? And why it continues to be affected? I have a very poor concept of space, I'm afraid. I can speculate that the area in which we tested our machine became physical, and your ship was caught in it unintentionally. As to why the machine continues to latch to it, I do not have as easy an answer. Distance is very baffling. I can only assume that since we have not turned the machine completely off, it remains latched to your minds. This manifests your dreams, born from the sub/unconscious, and causing comas to your telepaths. Remember, it _was_ designed to cross from Mental to Physical_.

'And our dreams are certainly doing that,' Spock finished. 'Despite any harmful effects, I ask that you do not immediately terminate your machine. It may be more difficult to establish contact afterwards. We wish to continue discussing with you.'

_Yes,_ Afreel replied. _I understand your mission of contacting intelligent life. Although I do not suppose we are considered 'Life' by your standards, we are 'Intelligence'. Very well, we shall not turn off our machine, but we shall put it back at its lowest setting; it may help your patients,_ it addressed McCoy. Its demeanor turned more serious. _You have a commanding officer; go to him. Perhaps we can find a common ground, a direction in which to proceed with negotiations, concerning your 'Federation'. When will be good for us? _Afreel mulled it over. _Time to us is still very abstract, even moreso than to you. We shall adjust the machine as soon as possible. Initiate another… mind-meld… whenever is convenient for you. We will know; we will be waiting._

The Existence flickered. _It is time to go,_ Afreel said, and then suddenly they were back in McCoy's cabin. After getting over the initial shock of having a body again, they looked at each other; as if to be sure what they'd just experience was real.

"Spock," McCoy said, rediscovering his vocal cords. "What on Earth just happened?"

For once, Spock could not find the words for such an event. Instead, he simply rose and said, "We must inform Jim."

* * *

**Told ya your brain might hurt. Why do all my better ideas about anything have to be so confusing? I tried to phrase it as clear as I could; lemme know if you have any questions about Mental/Physical planes. This is hands-down the longest chapter I've ever written (as so far), so it may be a slight shock for followers after the others numbered less than 2,000 words. Sorry to hit y'all with it, but I _did_ warn you at the top your brain might hurt. All I can say is take an aspirin or something (but I deny saying this, because I'm not a doctor and refuse to practice medicine illegally.)**

**Please review!**


	5. Induction

**A/N: Hey y'all! Sorry if the wait was long. Here's chapter 5 (I think it's a bit short). Thank you so much for the reviews. Also, Minecraft Guardiansaiyan, thank you for your suggestion! I originally wasn't going to do a three-way trio, but you changed my mind, so keep an eye out for that! (I'm trying to be vague to not give away spoilers). I don't own Star Trek (it owns me).**

* * *

Kirk honestly didn't know _what _to think when his two officers dragged him out of unconsciousness babbling something about planes and mentalities. As they continued trying to describe a place as not a place, and a thing that wasn't a thing and mental powers, he couldn't help but think _you've both gone mental_. Shaking the muddiness the sedative left in his mind, he forced himself to focus on their words.

"So… you're trying to tell me you've discovered something?"

McCoy gave an exasperated sigh. "God, Jim, where have you _been_ this entire time?"

"Yes, Captain," Spock supplied. "We have the answers to the dream problem."

That got his full attention. Kirk stood up, all ears. Spock explained the Mentality realm and Afreel, with interjections from McCoy. The idea of sentience without any sort of substance… it was mind boggling! Yet, Kirk thought, it did certainly explain a lot, if a bit unexpected.

"And that's why our dreams have been manifesting; because we're barely scraping the mental plane's bridge to the physical-" McCoy stopped suddenly. "Shoot, I'd better check on my patients!" He was out of the room before someone could say another word.

"Well, Spock?" Kirk broke the silence. "You said these… people… want to join the Federation?"

"That is the distinct impression," Spock said. "Although the normal parameters surrounding such an event are essentially useless."

"Yes…" Kirk trailed. There wouldn't exactly be any trade or protection, would there? It was more of just having someone to talk to. Of course, the scientific gain would be enormous…

"Notify Starfleet," he said. "And then I suppose we'll have a little mind-meld of our own."

* * *

It wasn't often one got to make the jaws of Starfleet drop. Kirk didn't blame them; he could hardly believe it himself. Yet he still couldn't resist feeling a little pleased that they had found something outrageous enough to stupefy them. It took the testimonies of Spock, McCoy, and a few of the espers before they finally believed the story.

"We're traversing totally new ground here," Admiral Komack informed him. Well, Kirk didn't need the informing, he already knew, but the nevertheless that's what admirals are paid to do. "Talk to them again and see if there's anything they want from us. We could certainly use the scientific aspect, but naturally mutual relations must go both ways."

"I agree, sir," Kirk said dryly.

"Also," Komack shifted. "We need to make sure that they are not a threat."

"Threat?" Kirk repeated. "Admiral, they're basically scientists."

"Maybe," he said. "But don't you have it on record that two of your people are dead due to their 'scientific' innovation."

"Admiral, I do not believe you comprehend the extensiveness of the Mentality Plane," Spock interjected. "Every mental function and aspect is present; there are no secrets. Afreel truly means well."

"Yet your report also said that Afreel was refraining from using full force so as not to overwhelm you. It is possible that he was hiding something."

"No, it's not," Spock said, unusually blunt. "I could glimpse into Afreel's existence; granted, not completely, but enough to determine its honesty."

"It?"

"There is no concept of gender in the Mental Plane."

Kirk hid his smile. It always gave him secret delight to see Spock out-logic admirals and other brass.

"Nevertheless, Kirk," Komack said, changing the subject. "Your mission is to find out what they want, find out if they're hostile, establish _safe_ communications, and, if all checks out, to induct them into the Federation." The channel closed.

"I would change the order on some of those orders," Kirk commented.

Spock made no reply. "Are you ready, Captain?"

Kirk straightened. "Yes." They sat down on some chairs. Spock leaned forward and found the meld points. "My mind to yours…"

* * *

It was just as breathless as the light. Kirk gasped and felt himself start to tumble away but Spock was there holding on to him. Shakily, Kirk adjusted to the strange sensation of near-omniscience. It was like the secrets of the universe had opened up to him.

_Hello_, greeted a presence. _May I ask how long it has been since we last spoke?_

'16.32 hours,' Spock supplied.

_Thank you_, it rumbled warmly. _This will help us in calibrating Time._

'Are you Afreel?' Kirk managed to think. He winced as his thought seemed harsh against the harmony.

_I was last time. I shall be again._ Afreel seemed to settle around them. _We have lowered the settings on our machine. Are your crewmembers responding well?_

'Yes, they are back on active duty,' Spock answered.

_I am pleased to hear that._ There was a pause. _We are pleased to hear that._

'I have other news," Kirk said. 'We have spoken with our organization, and they are open to having you join the Federation.' He was suddenly struck with a flow of positive feelings. 'We do have some questions, however. Is there anything you want?'

_From the Federation?_ Afreel mused. _Merely to learn more about Physicality. We are willing to share our knowledge of this plane. I am not sure how we can be of assistance in times of duress… perhaps to help speed up communication?_

'I don't think I quite follow,' Kirk admitted. 'What do you mean by speeding up communication?'

_We are in Mentality. We are connected to each other and to anything connected. Right now we can feel the minds of your ship, aided by our machine, of course. We could contact people without worrying about Time or Space. Well, perhaps Time, as it exists for you, but distance would be of no issue._

'Fascinating,' Spock thought. 'Could you demonstrate?'

A moment later and Kirk suddenly felt like he was being swept across a plain. Spock was with him. He could _feel_ minds- 428 of them to be exact. It wasn't to the level of hearing thoughts, but just knowing they were _there_…

A few stood out from the rest. They were more attuned to Mentality. One actually seemed familiar.

_Here is your demonstration,_ Afreel informed, and they plunged to the familiar mind.

In Sickbay, McCoy keeled over in surprise.

'What the hell?' he spluttered instantly.

'Good to see you too, Bones' Kirk greeted.

'Jim! What in the blazes just happened? Are we, where-?' Spock stabilized him.

_Inquiry,_ Afreel noticed. _You are back in Mentality. I contacted you to show your friends how we may be of use in bettering communications._

'Well, gee, you could give a _warning_ first,' McCoy exclaimed, still ruffled. 'What if I was in surgery?'

'He does have a point,' Spock acknowledged. 'It would be wise to establish signals prior to communication.'

_Agreed,_ Afreel replied. _I believe a colloquial term would be 'knocking'?_

Kirk smiled. 'That should do just fine.' His countenance grew darker. 'I'm sorry to have to ask this,' he said, even though Afreel could already tell he was sorry. 'But do you have any ulterior motives for contacting us?'

_Do we intend you harm?_ Afreel was quiet. _Not on purpose. Like many aspects of Physicality, good and evil are new to us. We are mainly curious. I am defining the concepts from your own definitions. Thus, I am striving to communicate 'politely'. Naturally we do not wish to cause trouble. I suppose that would mean we are 'Good'._

Kirk felt a wash of earnest sincerity flood him. Afreel was speaking the truth. 'In that case,' he said. 'Welcome to the Federation.'

'Just like that?' McCoy scoffed. 'Don't they normally take a couple weeks?'

'This is a different case, Bones,' Kirk told him. 'I believe we have accomplished everything on our agenda.'

'Not quite, Captain,' Spock said. He addressed Afreel. 'There is still the matter of your mechanism.'

'Yes, your Dream Machine still makes sleep dangerous,' McCoy recalled.

_We have been studying its design and compared it to your own consciousness,_ Afreel informed. _Its original purpose was, after all, to cross to the Physical Plane. We feel that we will be able to successfully remove the proportion dedicated to what you term 'the subconscious', however that can only occur once it is no longer functioning. Once fixed, we should be able to reactivate the machine without any adverse effects. Chances are that the area of space you were in when we first tried it will be where we cross planes again. Until we learn more of Space, that will be our… location._ Afreel seemed to try the word out.

'Will you be able to contact minds even if no one's around that area?' Kirk asked.

_Oh, yes, the machine amplifies our connection to the Physical world. A happy result. Once rid of the Dream flaw, there shouldn't be too much trouble 'knocking' and communicating. Anywhere._

'But you have to turn it off first,' he clarified.

_Yes…_ Afreel seemed hesitant.

'Why, what is it?' McCoy asked anxiously.

_It is likely that when it powers down, as it shuts off completely it will abruptly withdraw from the Physical Plane resulting in a whiplash effect._ There was a pause. _The disturbance may very well create another such storm like your first encounter._

* * *

**To me this seems kind of filler, but it's necessary nevertheless. Meh. The weekend's here (at last!) so maybe I'll be able to finish the story then. I plan for a couple more chapters, though, so don't flip out or anything. Please review!**


	6. Red Sky in Morning

**A/N: I got nothin' to say. Just read.**

* * *

Kirk and Spock finally broke the mind meld. They sat for a moment, contemplating. According to Afreel, it would be approximately an hour before the storm would hit. That gave them time to prepare.

"Well, Mr. Spock," Kirk said, rising. "I think we'd better-"

The comm whistled. "Sickbay to Captain Kirk."

"Kirk here."

"Captain," Nurse Chapel said. "You may want to come-" she was cut off as there was a burst of angry protests in the background.

"Dammit, Chris, I'm _fine_, just thank mental voodoo for all the-"

"Doctor, I'll determine if you're _fine_, and when someone randomly passes out walking across the room they are surely not _fine_."

"Oh, for the love of-!"

Kirk, amused, addressed the invisible situation. "McCoy, for once, is actually correct when he says he's fine," he informed. "Also, yellow alert; prepare for storm conditions. Kirk out."

He and Spock rushed for the bridge. "Uhura, yellow alert. All crewmen to their stations and to brace for an ion storm, due to arrive within an hour. I want reports from each deck. Mr. Sulu,"

"Aye, Captain?"

"What would you recommend be the best position for a ship to be in when an ion storm hits?"

Sulu, a little flabbergasted at the orders and questions, thought. He hesitated. "Well, in all due respect, sir, wouldn't the best position when preparing for a storm be, well, outside of it?"

"Unfortunately, the effects are gravitating towards our constant position," Kirk said dryly.

"Oh." Sulu chewed his lip. "As long as we're moving, we'd be better able to respond to fluctuations, because we've got inertia built up. At a dead stop, it'll be harder to start moving; we'll be tossed around a lot before we could get a grip on ourselves. And I'm sure Scotty could tell you a bunch of things about getting the warp core started in an ion storm."

"True," Kirk said. "So we'll maintain our course holding." He thought for some moments before punching his chair comm. "Bridge to Sickbay."

"McCoy here."

"Status report on crew's condition."

McCoy paused. "We're facing an ion storm as fierce as the last one on a shaky three nights deprived of sleep. No matter what you do nobody's going to be in their top condition."

"But…?"

"But," McCoy continued. "If you wait it's just gonna get worse, so we're as good as we'll ever be. 'No time like the present,' Jim."

"Understood, Kirk out." He glanced at his science officer. "ETA of the storm, Spock?"

"We still have 15 to 20.2 minutes before the margin of time the machine is to be turned off," Spock supplied. "However, since Afreel's understanding of time is still very crude-"

There was a crackling outside of the ship and back end was suddenly forced up, tilting the saucer sharply down. Everyone lurched forward, thrown off balance, before the gravitational dampeners set in.

"The storm could arrive sooner," Spock finished.

"Sulu! Status!" Kirk barked.

"We're being tossed head over heels, Captain," he answered. He pounded frustratedly at the helm. "Readings are jumping like before."

"Navigation is also out of control," Chekov added.

"Engineering t'Bridge."

Kirk pounded a button. "Scotty, tell me you've got something."

"'Fraid not, sair. The ion particles are makin' a mess with the warp engines! I can give ya warp 3 at best, but nothin' faster."

"It'll have to do," Kirk asserted. The whole ship shuddered. "Spock?"

"The machine must have already withdrawn from this reality," Spock said, bent over his science console. "The storm is the backlash."

"So now it's just an ion storm? Nothing more?" Kirk wanted to be sure.

"Extremely aggressive, and with a few odd elements," the Vulcan elaborated. "However, our past measures of escape should be useful." The ship bucked and rolled. "And preferable," he added, disheveled.

"Sulu, any heading!"

"Aye sir!" Sulu grabbed the coordinates for their original destination from Chekov's board and drove the ship in their general direction, hoping for a quick way out.

It was not to be.

The storm became more brazen, and the ship was thrown away from their rout. Gravitational dampeners were just so _slow_. Personnel scattered over the bridge and rolled across the floor as the _Enterprise_ rocked in the other direction. Sometimes when the gravity stabilized the ship had twitched at just the right moment that they had already adjusted themselves only to have the artificial G's throw them back down.

"Captain!" Scotty's voice came back on the bridge. "We just lost the port nacelle!"

"Completely?" Kirk called. Oh, this was _not_ good.

"Nay, just warp. But if ye want to stabilize the two, we've got t'drop to impulse. Of course, we could make a wide spiral out, but I'll have to rig somethin' t'keep us from going in a complete circle; add impulse to the port nacelle while maintaining warp in the other-"

"Scotty, whatever will get us out here, do it!"

"Aye, sair."

The ship jerked and pitched to the left. Sparks zipped across the boards and the lights went out. Emergency power kicked in a second later.

"Sulu!" Kirk shouted, struggling to hold onto his seat. "Have… you got…"

There was a horrible noise, like a great grinding, twisting sound out metal. The _Enterprise_ seemed to fish-tail, jerking in two directions at once. Klaxons screamed, and maybe some people did, too. There was a flurry of motion and everyone was pressed to the deck as G-forces beyond their control took hold. Kirk felt a pounding in his head so fierce that he knew any moment the forces would flatten him and everyone else. A final console erupted in sparks and the last thing he saw was the tiny shower of embers drifting lazily down to join him on the deck…

* * *

_Beep_.

Kirk twitched.

_Beep_.

He registered a sound.

_Beep_.

He was lying on the ground.

_Beep_.

He opened his eyes.

Kirk was tucked neatly near the captain's chair alongside Chekov and Sulu. He stretched and glanced around. Uhura was also laid out nearby. They were all still unconscious. He groaned and sat up. The Klaxon was still ringing, only faintly. Its blaring siren had become a pathetic beep. The bridge was in tatters; he could only imagine what state the rest of the ship was in. He stretched slightly; sore muscles protesting.

Spock was up. He was at the communications console, accessing the inner ship. Kirk caught some words like 'repair crews' and 'medical teams'. Good. At least someone was functioning.

Spock noticed him and helped him up. "Are you alright, Jim?" he asked. Kirk smiled at his name.

"Dizzy," he said. "And sore. But otherwise I'm fine. You?"

"I have suffered no lasting ill effects," was the reply. "Intraship communications are functional; repair crews are assessing damage to Engineering, primarily the port nacelle. Sickbay reports 'a flood of people who survived hell and high water' with no casualties as yet, but several critical cases. Subspace communications also work; I have radioed the nearest Starbase with a Priority 2 distress call. Captain," Spock said, cutting off Kirk's remark. "We have lost warp capabilities in one nacelle and we cannot make it anywhere in time for necessary repairs on just impulse. Starbase 26 has reported back saying they have dispatched a drone ship which can tow us to its dock."

"Very good, Spock," Kirk said. He winced as a wave of dizziness and nausea swept over him. Spock steadied him. "Those G forces pack a wallop."

"Indeed."

* * *

When McCoy awoke, all he knew was that he had patients and a broken leg. The best Chapel could manage was to let him receive mobile patients while he sat on a bio-bed with his leg encased in a bone-knitter. When it was done healing he promptly got up and began running around Sickbay, despite her protests to at least keep weight off of it a little longer. The protests were short-lived, though. They were too busy.

He answered Spock's call and asked how the captain was. Spock reported that the bridge was still mostly unconscious from the G forces, but otherwise unhurt. McCoy really wanted to go up there to check everybody out, but there were some serious problems he had to deal with first. People were coming in with first-degree burns and crushed bones. He had to quickly perform brain surgery on one lad who'd banged his head so hard into his station that it broke the _console_. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen it this bad.

"Well, we're still alive," he grumbled, heading for his next patient. "I suppose that's something."

* * *

Scotty came to with a bunch of his best lads surrounding him, looking concerned. He'd always been susceptible to bad head wounds, but luckily today was the day he sported only an _average_ concussion. Within seconds he was back on his feet and instructing repairs on the warp core, life support, and other stabilizers. He worried about that nacelle, though. Ach, his poor bairn…

* * *

It took two days for the _Enterprise_ to be towed to the Starbase. They stayed busy the entire time. They actually had more hands to repair damages because no one was needed to pilot the ship. Once McCoy cleared everyone on the bridge for duty, they quickly made their way to Engineering and helped with the cleanup.

Starfleet was interested in the results of the negotiations. Despite their unhappiness with the damage caused by Mentality's machine, too many were excited for the new sciences to worry too much. There was a report of an ion storm back at the location of the first one, and it was assumed that once again connection between the two planes had been established. This time without a poor starship caught in the middle.

Patients requiring more intensive medical aid were transferred to the starbase's hospital. Kirk then gave shore leave for everyone while the ship was repaired to catch up on their sleep. Heaven knew they all needed it.

He sat in the Starbase's diner sipping a brandy. Spock and McCoy both sported nonalcoholic beverages. McCoy, because he claimed he might be called into surgery on a moment's notice and Spock because, well, he was Spock.

"An interesting turn of events," Kirk commented. "I'll admit I never saw this adventure coming."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Humans are not among the species known for precognition."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Glory, Spock, use that right brain of yours."

"Doctor, if you are referring to the right _hemisphere_ of my brain, I must point out that it is not an entire brain unto itself."

"I _know_ that," McCoy said irritability. "I was just _staring_ at a kid's brain. I'm saying, instead of interpreting everything so literally, recognize the subtleties for once!"

"To what 'subtleties' are you referring to?"

"Exactly!"

Kirk chuckled. Their banter was a sure sign that things were returning to normal. Yet as he went back to sip his brandy, he thought he saw an unspoken message flash between them. He frowned. That was odd. It almost seemed like they were talking more than just about the brain. Perhaps the mind, after all Mentality _was_ fascinating.

He drank his brandy with the feeling that he himself was missing some of those 'subtleties'.

* * *

**Whew! What a chapter. I don't own Star Trek, and I used a line McCoy says in 'The Immunity Syndrome' (see if you can catch it). I also don't write slash; if some of you got some weird ideas from the last scene then go back and read chapter 4. There are those 'subtleties'.**

**This chapter is titled from the old saying: Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in morning, sailors take warning.**

**I'm planning only one more chapter after all of this, to sort of tie everything to a close. So, review and stay tuned!**


	7. Captain's Log

A/N: Looky, fonts are switched! Okay y'all, here's the last chapter. I know it's kind of short but I planned it this way. If you see any loose ends that I didn't tie up PLEASE let me know (I hate loose ends. As in, I really, _really_ hate them). I don't own Star Trek, and I don't own Star Dates (I just pulled random numbers out of my head; don't get mad). Enjoy!

* * *

**Captain's Log, Stardate 5207.6: Repairs on the _Enterprise_ have been completed and we left Starbase 26 45 minutes ago. The crew is back on their feet and in much better condition now that they have had a chance to catch up on their sleep. 3 crewmembers remained on the Starbase due to their medical conditions. All other personnel are either back on active duty, or light duty. The ship is headed for the Vega Quadrant, to explore a new solar system there. Mr. Scott informs me that we should arrive in 3-4 days.**

**The crew morale is a mixture of relief and disappointment. Naturally, because Mentality is such a fascinating concept, we would have loved to explore it further. However, it is also a relief to leave the wake of dreams and nightmares behind, as some are still mourning the death of two crewmembers.**

**It should also be noted that both Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock have requested one day off of duty. I realize that shore leave is over, however they never request a day off without good reason (even if they are being unusually private in this case). Considering that we have nothing immediate planned, I granted their request. Although sheer speculation, I wonder if any lingering effects from Mentality remain and they are trying to ascertain it. Any developments concerning after-effects will be reported immediately.**

**With nothing else of importance to report, let it be noted in the command log that I am turning the conn over to Sulu for an hour or two. Perhaps I can find Spock and McCoy and offer to help out.**

**End.**


End file.
